


when we were young

by AFireInTheAttic



Series: Teen Wolf Rare Char Bingo [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Nostalgia, teen wolf rare character bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6297985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFireInTheAttic/pseuds/AFireInTheAttic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melissa has a love/hate relationship with the past, and looking at old photos only makes that more apparent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when we were young

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madsmurf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsmurf/gifts).



> Melissa refers to Rafael as Raph.

Going through the pictures was overdue, honestly, but it always took so much effort. In the end, Melissa always ended up getting halfway through a box before the emotions became too much for her.

There were five boxes. Over the years, she’d narrowed it down from eleven boxes, so something was to be said there.

Raph had been meticulous about it. Each of the boxes were labeled with months and years. With all his careful labeling, you’d think he would have cared more about leaving them when she had kicked him out.

Well, whatever. This time, she’s set herself up with a bowl and a lighter. Any pictures that upset her are being burned, and that’s that.

Any pictures she wants to save will be scanned onto her laptop. Alan had let her borrow the scanner over the weekend. It was his work scanner, but he said no one would mind. It was his clinic, after all.

So here she was. She pulled down the earliest box she had—March through October, 1997. Scott was two, about this time, just starting to run around. He’d been such a cautious baby before that. When he learned to walk, he’d demanded that whichever parent was nearby would hold his hands over his head as he carefully toddled to wherever he wanted to get.

Raph had snapped one such picture of her helping Scott walk to the dinner table. It was only the fifth picture she’d looked at so far, but she found herself smiling at it, eyes already watering.

Scott was wearing that cute onesie he loved. It had a hood he could pull up that gave him elephant ears. He’d loved that onesie. She’d loved that onesie.

Melissa sets the photo up to be scanned before she loses any more time looking at her once small son. She misses the times when his biggest worry was whether or not she would cut the crusts off his pb&j. It all sounds so simple, now, and…well, she wishes she could go back to that. It would be easier on Scott–easier on her, too, but that doesn’t matter as much to her.

The next photo is of her kissing Raph. She immediately tosses it into the burn pile. Dickhead.

Some of the pictures are easy, like that. She knows she has no need for pictures of Raph before he drank so much and she knows that she will always want to keep pictures of Scott. She even allows a family picture to stay, even though it makes her wince when she sees it. She knows–believes, anyway–that Scott should have some pieces of his past that include his biological father.

But pictures of Raph without Scott in them? Burn ‘em.

She tries not to get caught up in pictures of Scott too often. Sometimes she can smile for a moment and put the photo in the scan pile, and other times, she’s caught up in a memory she can’t put away.

Like hereScott had wanted so desperately to go to the park. He’d dressed himself all on his own, in green corduroys and a sweater vest–just a sweater vest. He hadn’t understood why Melissa had laughed so hard and taken a picture of his pouting face before helping him into a t-shirt that would keep him a bit more comfortable.

She chuckles, remembering the way Scott would repeat “Arms up!” over and over whenever she helped him change his shirt. He’d been so cute and small, and now—she looked over at the most recent picture she had of him, hanging on the wall. He’d send it to her via text message—it was a selfie with Kira. They’d taken it with the flash off and Scott’s eyes were screwed shut, to prevent any otherworldly glows. They were so relaxed and happy.

She held up a picture of him beaming at her as a toddler and smiled at the happiness in both images. Her son had always had the most beautiful smile, and she had always loved seeing it. No matter how much time passed, that would never change.


End file.
